


all of my life (i've been in hiding)

by Butterfly



Series: go on as three [8]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, background Quentin Coldwater/Margo Hanson/Eliot Waugh, from right after 1x07, past Alice Quinn/Quentin Coldwater mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: “If Eliot can't marry her, she could marry one of the other future royals,” Alice says. She feels vaguely light-headed. The knife-maker starts to turn towards Quentin and the other boys, so she blurts out, quickly, “Me. She can marry me.”





	all of my life (i've been in hiding)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Deliver Me" by Sarah Brightman.

“He can't!” The words explode out of Quentin and the force of it makes Alice blink and take a step back in surprise. The knife-maker seems shocked, too, but Alice sees Margo smile, sudden and fierce, her eyebrow raising sharply as she stares at Q.

“Quentin's right,” Margo says, smoothly, stepping in between Quentin and the knife-maker. “I ask you, good sir, what use is a marriage based on an old promise when we can make you a _better_ promise today. Sure, if Eliot marries your daughter, she'll be a queen, but what will that mean?”

“It means she'll... be his queen? It's what she was raised to do,” he says, stoutly, but when Margo takes a step forward, he steps back. “This is the deal that was struck before she was even born.”

Margo looks past him, at the daughter – Fen, Alice thinks it was – and flings out a dramatic hand. “What good is a powerless queen compared to a honored counsellor, who has the same rights as any other advisor? Which of those is truly the better solution for your family's voice to be heard?”

“Can't she have both?” he asks.

“Can she?” Margo's voice is dubious. He frowns. “ _Can_ she, truly?”

But Alice is looking at Fen and she looks unhappy and- and- and like she's used to it. Like she's used to her father deciding her life for her.

Alice has a plan, for the Beast. She's pretty sure she can't beat him as just a human girl.

She thinks maybe she could beat him as a niffin.

So as Margo talks, Alice looks at Fen, and she thinks of herself, all those nights at her parents' house, wondering when they would ever see her as her own person, and something inside her says... maybe she can help someone here. Maybe she can do this one person some good and, as a bonus, keep Eliot from being trapped into an unhappy marriage at the same time.

Eliot has always been kind to her.

“If Eliot can't marry her, she could marry one of the other future royals,” Alice says. She feels vaguely light-headed. The knife-maker starts to turn towards Quentin and the other boys, so she blurts out, quickly, “Me. She can marry me.”

  


* * *

“Do you think you'll be happy?” Quentin asks, a few minutes before the ceremony.

_I think I'll be dead soon. Or a niffin, which is worse._

She lets the words float away, inside her. Says, “Maybe happiness is something we can choose to create.”

Quentin gives her an odd look and she remembers, with a touch of guilt, that he has actual diagnosed depression, so that might have been kind of an asshole thing to say to him.

“Not that I've noticed,” he says. “But maybe it can be different for you. Good luck, Alice.”

She knows she broke his heart, at least a little, all those weeks ago when she didn't want to keep carrying on after Brakebills South.

But he seems sincere now, so she takes his words at face value, doesn't try to look for a hidden meaning.

She stands in front of witnesses and her life is bound to Fen's and she- she _feels_ it happen. There's a magic here, in this ceremony. Fen's father still seems a little bewildered by it all, occasionally muttering about how Fen had been raised to marry the _High King,_ but he dances with Alice when she offers, and he doesn't seem to dislike her personally, anyway.

Alice's new... new wife has stayed quiet, but she smiles whenever anyone looks at her, and at least she isn't sending any longing looks in Eliot's direction.

When they're alone together, for their 'consummation', Alice sits down on the bed and says, “We don't. Have to do anything. I don't actually even know what to do. With another girl.” She frowns. “I mean, physically, I would assume it's quite straight-forward, but the men I've been with seemed to find it difficult, so it's probably not as-”

Fen's mouth is on hers.

Alice freezes.

Fen's lips move, slightly, pressing a kiss against her upper lip. Alice's eyes are still open and so she sees – the look of concentration on Fen's face, how it makes a line appear between her eyes, how her hair softly cascades down from the knot she'd wrapped it up in and curls around her face. Fen looks like a girl out of a beauty magazine. She looks like a fairy tale princess, at the beginning of the story, when she's dressed in rags but hauntingly lovely all the same.

Tentatively, Alice starts to kiss back.

Her mouth is soft. Hesitant. Alice raises her hands and puts them on Fen's shoulders, tugs her closer. Lets her eyes slid shut. Her glasses push against her face, the nose pads digging in.

Alice breaks the kiss, says, “Oh, I need to- to take off my-” She pulls off her glasses, tosses them onto the table near the bed.

She cups Fen's face with her hands because, well, she's probably going to die. So why not. Why not enjoy this, if Fen actually _wants_ it?

“You have sharp eyes. Hunter's eyes,” Fen says. She sounds pleased by it. She also doesn't sound much like the shy girl she'd been in front of her father which- well, Alice understands all about _that_. “You and the others are off to kill a monster tomorrow. Fighting is always easier after a good tumble. Let me ease you, Alice.”

For some reason, Alice had assumed Fen was a virgin. The whole 'raised to marry the king' thing, she supposes. Silly of her to presume a fantasy world would have the same sexist hang-ups as Earth. Maybe she should have paid more attention all the times Quentin tried to talk to her about Fillory.

“It's all right if you don't know what to do,” Fen says. “I've enough experience for us both, I believe.” She unknots something on the back of her gown and the whole dress falls to the floor and she's completely naked in front of Alice, in a startlingly abrupt way. Fen has thick hair on her legs, and darker hair covering her- her pubic mound.

Her 'mound of venus', as Alice's mother had, horrifically and embarrassingly, called it when she'd felt the need to make an attempt to give Alice sex education lessons and had given her that terrible book about sex and learning her own body.

Fen reaches out for Alice's hand, places it on her breast. “Go ahead, do some exploration, my wife.” Fen's nipple is pressed up against the center of Alice's palm, and it's already harder than Alice would have expected. Maybe from the cold air?

Or maybe because Fen genuinely _is_ attracted to Alice?

She curls her fingers against Fen's skin. This isn't such an unfamiliar feeling, except she can't feel it echo in her own body the way she would if she were doing some lead-up to masturbation. Fen's nipples are darker than her own, and bigger, her areola taking up a substantial portion of her breasts.

She rubs her fingers across Fen's nipple, graceless and clumsy.

Fen strokes over her hair, leans in and nips at the side of her jaw. “Your face is sharp, too. Intelligent.” Alice sways into her. Fen's hands slip under Alice's black cardigan, tug it off her shoulders, throw it on the ground. Fen's fingers brush across the collar of Alice's dress. “Let me distract you from your troubles, if only for tonight.”

Oh, this is really happening.

“Wait.” Alice pulls away, feeling her cheeks heat.

“You don't want it?” Fen asks, her hair curling at the tops of her breasts. She sounds disappointed, maybe. Alice hopes.

“I- I do,” Alice says. “I just. I was thinking we would. Talk. And then sleep next to each other. So, I didn't- but if we're going to. Have sex, then I want to. Ward the room.”

“Ward?” Fen tilts her head, her confusion obvious.

“I can cast a spell. So no one hears us.”

Fen gives her a slow look, down and then up again. The weight of her gaze feels. Heavy.

“You do have the look of someone who might scream out her pleasure,” she says, like that's something that people say.

She sits on the edge of the bed and watches Alice expectantly. Alice's eyes catch for a moment on the angle of her jaw – what a peculiar thing to focus on but... it is lovely.

Alice's face feels so hot. She might be bright pink. She forces her eyes away from Fen's face. From her body. Concentrates on the spell. It's somewhat embarrassing, to do this, because it means the others – Margo and Eliot. Penny and Josh. Quentin – will know what she's doing in here. But the idea of anyone _hearing_ her is. Much worse.

She doesn't look at Fen again until the spell is complete, and when she does glance over, Fen is biting her lip as she stares at Alice's hands.

“The silencing ward is up,” Alice says.

Fen crooks a finger, gestures for Alice to approach. It's strange how Fen is the naked one but Alice is the one who is. Nervous. Watched.

“Your charms look quite bountiful, even hidden under your dress. Take it off for me?”

It is the strangest compliment Alice has ever gotten. She nods, her chest feeling tight and airless under Fen's eyes. Alice feels. Awkward. Taking off her clothes this way, just standing in front of someone while they stare at her. She doesn't try to make a show out of it, wouldn't really know how to, but she can feel Fen, watching her.

Alice tugs her dress up and off, holds it for a moment, then tosses it to fall to rest on top of Fen's. Her stomach quivers when Fen places her fingertips against it.

Fen studies Alice's body, eyes narrowing as she looks at the plain beige bra and panties Alice had worn for this trip, and the tattered nylons.

“You wear so much under your clothes,” Fen says. “Are you rich or is this common for Children of Earth?”

“It's common,” Alice says.

Fen lifts her hand off Alice's stomach. “I want to see the rest of you.”

Alice blinks, feels her nerves try to take over again. She firmly locks them away. This might be her last chance to touch another person, especially like this. She wants- wants not to waste it.

She takes a step backwards, slowly twirls around so that Fen can look at her – her back, with that ugly tattoo, and her butt, which she doesn't think is one of her best features – and when she's facing Fen again, she reaches behind herself and undoes her bra, her breasts spilling forward as she takes it off. She stands there for a frozen moment, bra still in her hands, then forces herself to drop it.

“Yes,” Fen says, softly. “Your body is as lovely as your face. I thought it would be.”

Alice is never going to stop blushing.

She can't quite bring herself to look at Fen yet, as she slides her panties and nylons off together, balancing precariously on one leg at a time. Probably looking like an ungainly water bird. A pelican, maybe.

And now she is exactly as bare as Fen but- she feels like she's so much more exposed.

“You don't have much hair on your body,” Fen says. Alice can't tell if she approves or not. “Is that also common among Children of Earth?”

“Uh. Women,” Alice says. “Mostly for women.”

“A fashion trend?” The question is soft and Alice doesn't think Fen actually expects an answer, because she follows quickly with, “Come, my wife, lie on the bed. I want to touch you.”

She sneaks a glance at Fen's face as she climbs up onto the bed and Fen is- focused. Studying Alice's body in a way that makes her flush even more heatedly.

Alice lies on her back and it's- awkward, really, because what happens now? If Fen had a penis, Alice would know what to do. Though Alice has- has only rarely had sex while naked. Only a few times, mostly with Quentin at Brakebills South.

“You're so tense,” Fen says, her hand warm on Alice's knee. Fen stretches alongside Alice on the bed, rests her hand on Alice's stomach again. “Kissing relaxed you earlier. Let's try that.”

Fen leans down, catching Alice's mouth. She presses several brief kisses against Alice's lips, mouth slightly open. Alice blinks but she does feel her muscles start to loosen as she hesitantly kisses back. Fen's mouth is- soft and smaller than what she's kissed before, but Alice is. Starting to get used to it. Fen pushes Alice's hair back, sucks at her jawline and dots kisses down her throat. Her hand slides up Alice's torso, cups her breast.

Fen's fingers are- strong and calloused. Does she make knives, too, like her father does?

Then Fen pinches Alice's nipple, making her squeak in surprise. Her hand darts up to cover her mouth and Fen laughs.

“No need, Alice my wife,” she says, in a teasing voice. She reaches up and tugs Alice's hand back down. “You cast a 'ward' of magical quiet, remember?” Fen's smile sharpens. “And I would enjoy listening to you when I suck on your berries and drink of your wellspring.”

“My... what?” Alice asks, her forehead creasing.

Fen's tongue touches the corner of her mouth and she looks amused in a way that makes Alice want to blush again. Her fingers move, capture Alice's nipple and tug at it, and Alice squirms and gasps. “Berry. Yours are paler than most I've seen, but still lovely.”

Her hand goes lower and she presses her knuckles just above Alice's mons veneris. “Wellspring. When tended properly, your wellspring will flow. It may even gush.” Fen shifts back, grabs Alice's hand and places it on her own stomach. “What do you call them?”

“Uh.” Alice follows Fen's example, slides her hand up to cup Fen's breast. “There are a lot of words for-”

“What do _you_ call them?” Fen asks again.

“Breast,” Alice says, softly. She moves her hand higher. “Nipple.” She doesn't feel brave enough to yank at it, but she brushes her thumb across, feeling Fen's nipple compress down and spring back out again.

She takes in a deep breath, slides her hand along Fen's stomach, stops just shy of- “Vagina. Or- technically, the outside part is the- the vulva or the labia majora and minora. And the part that. When you touch it. It feels good.”

“The heart,” Fen says.

“Right. That's- that's the clitoris.” Alice twitches her mouth a little at the corner. “They're mostly all words from dead languages.”

“Earth sounds confusing,” Fen says. She places her hand over Alice's, tugs it down over the nest of hair, pressing Alice's fingers past the folds of her labia to reach her clitoris. “We call it the heart because you can feel the rhythm of our blood there. Do you feel it?”

Alice hesitantly strokes her fingers across Fen's... heart.

She's not sure if she can feel Fen's pulse or not. Clumsily, she pushes harder, rubs her fingers across the nub of Fen's clit. She doesn't dare look up at Fen's face, keeps her eyes on- on her hand, on the way her fingers slip out of view. Fen's hand guides hers, hips lifting up against Alice's touch.

It's not a great angle, so Alice- she scrambles up onto her knees so that she can- can lean over, slide her fingers back into the warmth and the wetness between Fen's thighs. One of Fen's legs is pressed up against Alice's knees, but she bends the other one out, opening up so that- that Alice can see better.

It's not anything – _anything_ – like touching herself.

Alice wants to- to see it, so she- she presses her fingers against the outer lips, spreads Fen open and now she can see there, where Fen is so much darker and redder than Alice. Fen had said- had said she wanted to drink of Alice's wellspring. Alice wants- wants-

She bends over, falls almost, presses her tongue against that button – against Fen's heart – and she licks at it. Her mouth is already damp, just from touching Fen for a moment. Alice has tasted herself before, after masturbating, though she always felt ashamed about it, and Fen doesn't taste the same, saltier and- less, less metallic.

Fen's fingers slide into her hair, holding her in place. “So eager, once you had the chance,” she says, and Alice flushes, but keeps kissing Fen's clit, sucking at it. “Put your fingers inside my wellspring.”

Alice's fingers shake and fumble as she strokes down, pushes them inside Fen's vagina. Her wellspring. Soaked and blood-hot. She presses deeper, searching for- she wonders if Fillorians have a word for that, too. Wants to know it, but doesn't want to stop kissing Fen long enough to ask.

“I knew you would be good at this. When I saw you weave that spell,” Fen tells her, between high-pitched gasps, arching up against Alice's hands and her mouth. “Soft but strong. Keep touching me, my wife. Right there. That's- yes, just so-”

Fen's voice is _not_ quiet, and Alice is glad she remembered to put up that ward.

She twists and spirals her fingers inside Fen – not quite casting a spell, but near to the same motions – and Fen's gasps turn into a high, needy moan. Fen's clit is hard and swollen against her tongue and the harder Alice sucks, the more pleased Fen seems to be, hips jerking against her mouth.

When Fen comes, her fingers tighten painfully in Alice's hair. She can feel Fen's muscles tense and clench around her and her moan stutters out breathlessly. Fen doesn't _gush_ , exactly, but everything feels so much wetter. Alice pants harshly, her own body aching in sympathy.

Fen strokes through Alice's hair gently, like an apology.

“That was fun,” she says. “But now I want to take care of you. Sit on my hips. Let me see you on top of me.”

Alice- she feels like she must look pretty gross, all sticky and flushed, but she slides her fingers out, straddles Fen's body. She's leaking onto Fen, too wet and messy and Fen hasn't even touched her yet. She stares down at Fen's stomach, tries to breath evenly.

“You're not used to receiving pleasure,” Fen says, puzzled, resting her hands on Alice's thighs. “And your own body makes you unhappy. Why?”

Alice can't quite figure out how to explain a lifetime of feeling... inadequate and out of place. Her mother never had a compliment for her that didn't come with a caveat. When her breasts had gotten- gotten so big, boys started treating her like she was older than she really was, like she was available because they wanted to leer at her. And other girls- sometimes she feels like she's never met a woman that hasn't brought up intense feelings of being in a competition she's already lost, including but certainly not limited to Margo and to Fen herself.

“I'll tell you what I see when I look at you,” Fen says. Her hands stroke lightly over Alice's skin. “Clear, strikingly pretty sky-bright eyes. A dagger of a chin, one that speaks of strong opinions. A lush wealth of beauty hiding under your clothes like a secret treasure for me to uncover and claim for my own.” Fen's fingers slide inward, along her legs, thumbs catching and tugging and spreading Alice wide and exposed to the night air and Fen's eyes.

It's mortifying.

It's thrilling.

“Pale here, too,” Fen notes, and Alice trembles. She can see Fen's hands, she can see her own clit, quivering and twitching. She wants to look away, but she- she can't. Fen's thumbs are so close to where Alice aches for her to touch. “Even flushed with desire, you stay pink, not red or brown. What do you do to remove the hair? It seems dangerous, taking a blade to yourself here. Do you use magic?”

Alice opens her mouth to answer, but Fen's thumbs press inward against her clit and she whimpers instead. Fen doesn't touch her there for long, hands slipping down to hold her open further below and Alice is- she's dripping on Fen's stomach now, she's sure of it. She feels a knuckle press curiously near the entrance to her vagina and she _feels_ like a wellspring, drowning Fen's fingers with no way to stop herself.

“Lick your fingers,” Fen tells her. Alice shudders, moves before she thinks to question it. Her right hand still tastes like Fen. “Tug and tease your berr- your nipples.” There's a faint question in Fen's tone, like she's not entirely certain of the appropriate plural. “Do that for me while I touch you. Keep your fingers wet.”

And this- this should feel familiar. Alice has played with her breasts before, plenty of times.

But never- never while sitting naked on a pretty girl.

She stares down her own body, her hair falling in front of her eyes like a curtain. It shouldn't startle her, but she still jerks a little in surprise when her own cold, wet fingers touch her nipples. She licks her lips. Suggests, “I could- I could cast a spell. To warm up the room?”

“I don't believe we need that,” Fen says, and her thumbs press down against Alice's clit. Alice's hips shudder forward, helplessly. “You're keeping me warm enough already.”

“Oh,” Alice says. “Okay.”

She rolls her nipples between her fingers and her breath is coming out in sharp moans now, ones that she can't seem to stop. Fen's thumb strokes in tight circles, while her other hand teases at Alice's vaginal entrance, but she never pushes any fingers inside. Alice feels-

-embarrassed. She's touching herself and she can't stop making stupid weird noises. She's so wet between her thighs that she can feel it sliding down along Fen's torso. She's so naked, she feels like she's never been this naked before in her life, and she can feel Fen watching her and Alice feels-

-needy. Her vagina aches and her breasts ache and she wants to lean down and kiss Fen again. She wants to grab Fen's hand, put her fingers inside where Alice needs them to be. She wants to hear those high, breathy gasps that Fen made when she came. She wants _Fen's_ hands on her breasts, not her own, wants Fen's fingers tugging and teasing at her. And she just feels so-

-tight, all over. Tense and flinching at every touch from herself and from Fen. She knows she's tightly-wound, people have made jokes about it all her life, but now it's not just a joke, it's her whole body, just one tight tense ache that twists tighter and tighter and-

“Oh!”

Alice collapses after she orgasms, not able to hold herself up any more. Her hands flail out, trying to brace on something, but her face still lands on Fen's chest hard enough that she feels it in her jaw. She kisses at Fen's breast, apologetic. Fen's hands are stroking over her back now, and it feels... almost tender.

“Do you feel more at ease, Alice my wife?” Fen asks, and Alice shivers. Fen makes a sympathetic little sound. Says, “If you still want to cast your spell, you may.”

With effort, Alice rolls to the side, lays on her back next to Fen. Lifts her hands and does the tuts, says the words.

The air inside the room heats up, comfortable enough to sleep without clothes or sheets.

“You Children of Earth have some impressive tricks,” Fen says. There's something odd in her voice, but Alice isn't sure what it means. “Go to sleep now, Alice. Tomorrow, you kill a monster and become a queen.”

And she's warm and relaxed and Fen is caressing her, soft and comforting, so it's easy enough to listen and close her eyes and drift off.

  


* * *

After she almost dies.

After she almost becomes a niffin.

 _After_ , anyway.

She sits on the ground, her arms wrapped around her knees, and stares at Martin's body. She wishes they could have saved him, too. Saved him from becoming something that they had to kill in order to save everything else.

Alice sits there and, after a moment, someone sits next to her.

Margo.

“Sorry, I'll get up in a minute,” Alice says. It's a lie. She's pretty sure her legs can't hold her right now.

“It's fine if you need more than a minute.” Margo's voice is soft in a way that Alice isn't sure she's ever heard before. “You never killed anyone before, right?”

Alice nods, buries her forehead against the tops of her knees.

“So, yeah. It might be more than a minute.” Margo seems content to just sit there, next to Alice, for as long as it takes.

“Is Quentin going to be okay?” Alice asks, in a tiny voice. He'd gotten hit by a spell, distracting Martin away from her. She can dimly remember seeing blood.

“Penny took him to Chatwin's Torrent. El's keeping them company,” Margo says and. Oh. The healing river. “He'll be fine. You asking as a friend or are you having some regrets about past choices?”

Alice scrunches her forehead, then. _Oh_.

“As a friend,” she says. “I actually- uh. Really like my wife?”

“Hidden depths.” Margo knocks a shoulder against hers companionably. “She your first woman?”

“Yeah,” Alice sighs.

“Want any tips?”

Alice considers the offer but. “No. She... has experience.”

“Ah, so _that's_ how it is,” Margo says, with that delighted little 'ooh, hot gossip' tone in her voice that Alice normally hates but. Not as much today. “Well, it's a good thing you don't want him anymore, then, because you and our little Q are _not_ compatible.”

That's puzzling enough that Alice lifts up her head and gives Margo a wary glance. “What's that mean?”

“Quentin needs someone who'll put him on his knees,” Margo says, bluntly. “And it sounds like that's not your thing.”

“Quentin was- actually quite aggressive. During sex,” Alice corrects Margo, because she remembers that clearly, with great fondness. He'd flipped her onto her stomach and yanked up her hips and driven in _hard_ -

She shakes her head, pulls herself out of the memory. The sex had been good – great, even – but the feelings have mostly faded, like she thought they would. She'd made the right choice, turning down his offer.

“Oh, yeah, honey. That was- that was the fox transformation bleeding over. Trust me. The boy likes being on his knees,” Margo says, and there's such a complete certainty in her voice that Alice pushes her lips together, bites at them nervously.

“Are you- are you and Quentin... together?”

“ _Ugh_.” Margo pulls a disgusted face that- confuses Alice even more. “We've banged once. I'm sure I'll screw him again when everything finally calms down. Let's not go any further than that or I'll have to go throw up in the bushes.”

Right, because Margo doesn't do relationships. At least, not that Alice has seen.

She hopes Margo doesn't break Quentin's heart too badly.

* * *

An unhappy citizen attempts to assassinate his king.

Fen's ex-boyfriend tries to kill Eliot.

Same thing, in this case.

Eliot almost _died_ and all Alice can think about is that maybe she'd actually been _falling_ _in love_ with her wife and it was all- all a lie, and maybe she'd never really known Fen at all.

She hiccups a little as she tries – fails – to hold back her tears.

“Hey, Queen Alice, you want some company?”

And she doesn't, but that's- that's Eliot's voice. And he'd just almost died so-

She scoots back on her bed and looks up at him. His arm is bandaged up now and his face is much kinder than she deserves.

“Are we throwing Fen in prison?” Alice asks, and her voice cracks on Fen's name.

She shouldn't care. She doesn't care.

“I just got back from a long conversation with her and, no, we aren't,” Eliot says, and Alice starts crying again, relief twisting her heart all up and around. She feels Eliot's arm around her shoulder and leans against him. “She's been arguing with him for a while, apparently. Telling him that the Children of Earth aren't so bad. I have a sneaking suspicion she might have a soft spot for her wife.”

Alice laughs against his shoulder, and it comes out as more of a snort, snotty and gross.

“You really like her, don't you?” And Eliot's voice is very, very gentle.

“I do,” Alice says. “I like her so much.”

“Then it's a good thing _you_ married her, not me, huh?”

Alice tries to picture it, Eliot and Fen, wrinkles her nose. “Do you even think she's pretty?”

Eliot makes a strange noncommittal noise that Alice doesn't think she could replicate to save her life. “I mean. She's not _not_ pretty.”

“But not your type.”

“Fuck, no. Definitely not my type,” Eliot confirms. “I'm glad you like her. Since, well. You'd be stuck with her regardless.”

“For life,” Alice says, and it makes her chest all warm and tight. “Do you think you'll ever get married? Since you're trapped in Fillory anyway?”

Eliot huffs out a laugh.

“ _Jesus_. Don't remind me. Did anyone tell you yet they don't have champagne here? I think I'll have to invent it for them just so that I don't die from lack of alcohol poisoning.” But his voice is cheerful enough. “Alice. You probably don't want to sit here talking to me when you could be yelling at your wife for not being honest with you.”

“I'm not going to _yell_ -” She stops at the look on his face. “Well. I might yell a little.”

“Honesty is very important in relationships,” Eliot says, with a seriousness she isn't quite expecting. “So, go on and tell your girl to be truthful with you in the future.”

And he sounds so much like a real king just then that she nods, then scurries out of the room to obey.

* * *

“Did you know that Quentin is in a relationship with Eliot and Margo?” Alice asks a couple of weeks later, as Fen brushes out her hair for her. “I was just talking to him and he- and I was- surprised but _not_ surprised at the same time. If that makes sense.”

“I had my suspicions,” Fen says, dropping a kiss on Alice's temple. “King Quentin is frequently sex-rumpled, and he doesn't spend much time with anyone but the High King and Queen.”

Alice leans her head back against Fen's stomach, thinks again about the idea of finding some guy to marry so that they can have a little kid running around to make Fen happy. She wishes, so much, that she could drum up some enthusiasm for the idea.

“If Quentin and Margo are actually together, for good, they might decide to have children someday,” she says, experimentally. She sees Fen's reflection get soft and tender in the mirror.

“Alice, sweet, don't worry about that,” Fen says, stroking her thumbs along Alice's jaw. “Children are a joy, but I won't wither away without one. If we find a husband you like, then that's wonderful. And if we don't, we'll stay a family of two.”

Alice turns her head and presses a kiss against Fen's belly through her nightdress, feeling needy and aching inside. “Will you ease me?”

“Oh, yes,” Fen says. She reaches up, unties the ribbons on her shoulders. The fabric tumbles down, lands messy on the floor, leaving Fen nude and tempting. “Yes, my wife. Let's get you to bed.”

There's nothing Alice wants more.


End file.
